


church bells ringing

by smallredboy



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Domestic, Humor, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Wedding Planning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 14:31:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 619
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16874652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smallredboy/pseuds/smallredboy
Summary: House proposes to WIlson, is just the same as always, and discusses wedding plans. Not exactly in that order.





	church bells ringing

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MysteryWriter36](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MysteryWriter36/gifts).



> HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABE!!! 17 YEARS BEING ALIVE WHAT THE FUCK IS UP!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> i love my boyfriende and i wrote this for him in a rush because i completely forgot whoops
> 
> enjoy!

After work, House hangs up his jacket and sits down next to Wilson, who’s watching an episode of  _ Real Housewives of New Jersey _ .

“Is one of us going to wear a dress?” he asks as he reaches for the bottle of wine, taking a few sips from it.

Wilson sputters and looks at House, at the tv, and then back at House. “Going to wear a dress to what?”   


“Our wedding, of course,” he says.

“You haven’t—”

“Oh.” He raises a brow and tilts his head, opening his hand as if there’s a ring box in his palm. “James Evan Wilson, will you marry me?”   
  
Wilson scoffs and pushes him into a kiss. “Of course I’ll marry you,” he says in between kisses. He pulls away and looks back at the TV, intertwining his fingers with House’s and squeezing. “So, what were you saying about dresses?”   
  
“I’ve never worn one, but I think it’d send everyone in a real tizzy if I did for our wedding.”   


“Especially considering you run on toxic masculinity.”   
  
“No, no, no,” he intercepts, leaning against him. “I run on assholery. They’re not synonyms, my love.”

Wilson elbows him and rolls his eyes.

“So, dress it is?”   
  
“If you want to. Who are we inviting?”   


He shrugs and reaches to drink some more wine. “The entire hospital.”   
  
“Are you even gonna tell them it’s our wedding?”   
  
“Of course not.”

“Your thing for theatrics will kill you one day.”   
  
“At least I’ll die by your side,” he says, doing a semicircle with one of his arms, moving so he’s practically laying on Wilson’s chest.

“You cheesy motherfucker,” Wilson says, leaning down to kiss him.

“You know it best.”   
  
There’s a pause and they stay like that, in comfortable silence. 

“Are we gonna hyphenate our names?” Wilson asks.

He shrugs in response. “Sounds good.” He makes his voice higher before continuing, “Dr. House-Wilson, please come to my goddamn office, it’s the third time this week.”

Wilson laughs and kisses him. “Cuddy’s gonna hate how much PDA we’ll sprinkle into our daily lives.”   
  
“More than PDA it’ll be us sneaking out to make out like we’re horny teenagers in a locker room.”   
  
“Very specific comparison,” Wilson says, looking at him smugly. “Any sexual experimentation in high school experiences you want to tell me about?”   
  
“His dick was greasier than yours.”   
  
“Hey!”   


House laughs and kisses him.   
  
“How’s the honeymoon gonna be?”   
  
“Cuddy will die before letting me get out of work.”   


“That’s not what I asked. Any dream destinations?”   
  
“You’re going to beg Cuddy to let me off the hook?”   
  
Wilson chucks some of his leftover takeout to House. “Answer the goddamn question.”   


He stays silent for several moments, his brow twitching and moving up and down, as if judging if he should say it or not, his lip wedged between his teeth in concentration. “Uh,” he starts. “France?”   
  
“House!” Wilson exclaims, surprised, enveloping his arms around him.

“Hey!” he exclaims, flustered, struggling against Wilson’s arms playfully.

“You fucking sap! You goddamn romantic! You—”   
  
“Oh my God, shut up!” 

“Absolutely not! You wanna go to France! To Paris! To the city of  _ looove _ —”   
  
“I’m divorcing you.”   
  
“We aren’t married yet!”   


“Well, as soon as the wedding is over I’m reaching for the divorce papers.” He leans up to kiss him. “Will make a nice world record.”

Wilson rolls his eyes and kisses him back, again and again. “You’re a closet romantic.”   
  
“I’m not coming out again,” he grumbles into Wilson’s lips.

“You’ll be coming out when you take me to the Eiffel Tower.”   


House groans and kisses him again, keeping his hand on his shoulder, this look in his eyes that makes Wilson grateful that he’s all his.   
  



End file.
